


Surf's Up

by Umbrella_ella



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Surfer AU, also Carter is a cutie, also i've been working on this for about a month, and kara's abs should be a character, featuring divorced cat, romance and a little angst because why not???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:08:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbrella_ella/pseuds/Umbrella_ella
Summary: Cat Grant, newly single mother and media powerhouse, goes on summer vacation with her son in an attempt to “find herself”, which for her, means writing her auto-biography and finally reading all of the New York Times bestsellers on a sandy beach on the Oregon coast while Carter has the time of his life in the water. Enter the gorgeous surfer and future Olympic athlete Kara Danvers, who somehow manages to distract Cat Grant with fantastic abs and legs that go on for miles.And so what if Kara smiles and Cat’s heart beats a little faster? It doesn’t mean a thing. Not that Cat’s paying attention or anything.(or, the surfer au no one asked for.)





	1. Saving The Day

**Author's Note:**

> In which Carter has a rough day, Kara's muscles are drool-worthy, and Cat answers the door in her pajamas, not in that particular order. 
> 
> Enjoy! Please, leave comments and kudos as you see fit-- I'd love to hear your thoughts.

The coastline in the early morning hours is beautiful, Cat thinks, as she drives north along I-5, watching the dark forests stretch on beyond the view of her headlights, the ocean mere miles away.

The trees are tall and looming, though they doesn’t frighten her, not like they had when she was a girl, casting monstrous shadows and twisting branches in her mind’s eye— instead, she finds solace in the peace and quiet, away from the constant movement of National City and her tower that looms high above the bustle. Her headlights are still dim, though she’d had the forethought to replace them before the trip, and her hand drifts down to flip on her brights. She hasn’t seen anyone down this stretch for an hour and a half, and for good reason. The sky is purple and black, bruised with the colors of the barely rising sun, and Cat yawns.

The two of them had set out late last night, determined to a have a day to unwind and unpack, and on Cat’s part, avoid the paparazzi.

They’re almost to the small town they’ll call home for the summer, and Cat thinks that’s a good thing, given the amount of coffee she’s had to drink to stay awake. Carter’s face is pressed to the passenger window, mouth open and soft snores filling the silence. Moonlight filters through the windshield casting a glow on his pale skin, and Cat smiles at the way his dark eyelashes flutter as his eyes open.

“Are we there yet?” he mumbles as she turns her gaze back to the road, turning off of the interstate and onto their exit. She takes a sip of coffee from the travel mug and replaces it as she sees their destination sign come into view.

“Almost,” she says, running her hand through his curls.

* * *

 

Cat sighs, running her hand through her hair and mussing it in frustration as her other hand hovers over her keyboard. Taking a breath, she stabs at the backspace key before she can think too much about what she’s erasing.

Thus far her self-imposed summer sabbatical is yielding— she squints at the word count on the screen as the cursor blinks tauntingly— very little. Two hundred and eighty-eight words of very little. Barely a quarter of a page in and Cat already has a headache. She adjusts her glass and shakes out her shoulders.

Looking outside, she’s surprised to see that the overcast sky from this morning has long since moved on, sunlight beaming through gaps in the cloud cover, casting rays of golden summer light onto the beach below. The stormy grey waves, however, continue to crash onto the beach, sprays of salty water showering the pedestrians on the sand. One couple walks their dog, and few summer vacationers run up and down the beach, splashing water at one another, their peals of laughter barely audible over the rush and rumble of ocean waves.

Cat watches as Carter bounds up the deck steps.

A mop of curly hair peers into the room as her son’s head pokes through the open French doors leading out onto the deck. Carter’s hair is wet, his dark hair plastered to his forehead and he smells of the ocean, of salt and sand, and he’s looking at her with wide eyes, smile muted and sheepish. Cat quirks her eyebrow at him, a silent demand.

“What is it, Carter?” It comes out harsher than intends, and she closes her eyes when Carter’s brow furrows beneath his curls, “I’m sorry, what did you need, honey?”

Carter shuffles into the room, hardwood creaking beneath his trainers. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, tensing into fists in the way that he sometimes does. His eyes drop to the floor, and Cat feels her hand move to touch him.

“I— I didn’t mean to,” his voice is small, and Cat feels her heart stutter out a panicked beat, a million scenarios spinning through her thoughts, “I kicked it, I kicked it and it just— I lost it.”

Cat feels her shoulders sag with minute relief, and her lips pull into a slight frown as she stands, approaching her son slowly.

“What did you lose?” Cat is concerned, though admittedly, not as concerned as she had been, and when Carter looks up, his eyes are brimming with tears.

“My soccer ball,” Carter swipes at the tears with the sleeve of his tee and frowns, “Do you think Dad will be mad?”

Cat sighs, her heart dropping to her stomach, because _of course_ , of course Carter would ask that, and of course he would be upset— she’ll have to have a few words with Michael over the phone later about how to encourage and comfort their son.

Perhaps he’d missed that memo twelve years ago.

“I think that he knows you loved that soccer kit he got you, and I think that he would tell you not to worry about it, Carter. We’ll go into town next week and get you another, hm? I’m sorry.”

And she is, because she remembers how much he enjoyed the ball, enjoyed the footwork behind tricks, and she vows to get him another.

She will _never_ begrudge her son the things he enjoys.She thinks briefly of her mother then, but shakes the thought away, instead smiling reassuringly at her son as he loops his arms around her and squeezes tight.

Hugs are so rare, so she presses her lips to his cold curls and inhales, struck by the idea that she may not be able to reach the top of his head the next time he hugs her.

Carter hums absently at that and shifts down the hall, the end his shoelace clicking on the hardwood, untied and soggy.

A knock sounds at the open French door, and Cat whirls around, wondering who could possibly be knocking on her door, wondering if the paparazzi know she’s here, despite her careful avoidance of any and all photographers on her way up the coast. Behind the panes, an unfamiliar woman stands, face tilted to the ground in a familiar nervous stance that Carter often assumes when he is unsure of a situation.

Cat moves towards the stranger, wedging her body between the frame and the open door, and crosses her arms.

“Can I help you?” She sounds rude, she knows, but with two hundred and eighty-eight words of drivel and an upset son, standing in her vacation house in her pajamas on a Sunday, it’s the best she can do.

The woman looks up, blushing scarlet as Cat crosses her arms, the lace of her nightgown peeking from beneath her robe, doing very little to hide the smooth, pale skin of her collarbones, and Cat takes a moment to examine the intruder. Her hands are placed on her hips, one elbow pinning a wet black and white checkered ball to her side and her free hand is fisted on her hip, fingers loosely curled around a wetsuit. Her hair is soaked and curling around her face, dark strands sticking to her neck, water beading and sliding towards the sun-kissed hollow of her throat, and Cat feels the breath rush from her lungs as she watches the stranger smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling as green eyes meet vivid blue.

The mysterious woman steps closer, her bare feet leaving prints on the deck, and Cat steps back into the house a fraction, floor creaking beneath her feet as she seeks refuge from this devastatingly gorgeous woman.

“I watched that boy— well, no, I wasn’t _watching_ the kid, not like that, because that would be creepy and inappropriate, and I assure you I’m not creepy—” the young woman flushes a deeper shade of red, if possible, and she shoves the soccer ball out into the space between them instead of continuing her slow descent into nonsensical mutterings, which Cat appreciates.

Her eyes are piercing and sharp, a contrast to the bright pink of her cheeks and the flush of her neck, and for whatever reason, the first word that comes to Cat is _kind_.

Cat watches the way her throat moves, the cords of her muscles contracting and releasing as she swallows nervously.

“I saw that boy kick the ball into the ocean and I saw him come up here, so I thought…”

The woman trails off, arm steady and unfaltering as she holds the globe in her outstretched hand. If Cat takes a moment or two to admire the way her bicep bunches beneath golden tan skin, well, that’s no one’s business but her own.

Cat takes the ball between her own hands, pulling it close, as if it might disappear into the ocean once more, which is ridiculous because they’re standing on a deck hundreds of feet from the water.

“Thank you, my son will appreciate it. He’s always been fond of this particular ball.” It’s ridiculous, and Cat should offer to pay her, or invite her in to return it to her son in person, or something polite, but Cat has never been particularly accommodating, nor has she ever suffered fools, so when she opens her mouth again, she realizes she has very little to say.

“Would you— do you want to— tea, perhaps?” Cat has always been succinct, to the point, and she doesn’t mince her words, and nor does she waste them, but she finds herself floundering in the presence of this Athena-like _goddess_ , stumbling and graceless and she _hates_ it.

“Oh, erm, no thank you, I should get going,” the strange woman mumbles, clearing her throat, “I mean, not that I don’t like tea, but— well, my board is back there.”

Her thumb jerks over her shoulder, and Cat swallows at the way the woman's bicep curls at the motion, smooth, tan skin rippling, her mouth suddenly dry. She moves towards the deck steps, feet padding across salt-worn wood, and Cat steps out onto the deck, following her quickly.

“Cat,” she says, holding out her hand, “I’m Cat Grant.”

She watches carefully for any recognition, but if the woman does recognize her name, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she offers a steady hand, calloused and strong, and Cat takes it. The grip is surprisingly soft, belying the steel and corded iron that surely lay beneath the stranger’s skin.

“Oh, I’m Kara,” she says, and with that, her grip is gone, and Cat’s fingers clutch at air as Kara turns, rushing down the steps towards the grey ocean water. Cat’s halfway towards the French doors when she hears Kara’s voice.

“See you around, Cat Grant.”


	2. The Making of a Hero (A Guide to Seduction by Kara Danvers)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat and Carter find the perfect spot on the beach, only to be interrupted by a familiar face. Apologies are made and seduction via sandwiches occurs.

The grey ocean crashes and roils just feet away, and Cat delights in the way that the wet sand sinks between her toes, her flats hanging from her fingers loosely as Carter splashes in the foam of the waves where they meet the sand.

Her lips quirk into a smile and her eyes squint against the sun, and she laughs when Carter slips on the wet sand, falling into the water waist deep with a flail. It had been too long since the two of them had really spent time together like this, just the two of them. Carter had taken it upon himself to find the perfect reading spot for Cat, because “you can’t read in the middle of the beach, you have to find the _perfect_ spot, Mom”, and Cat had acquiesced.

Of course, she didn’t know she’d have to trudge nearly a mile up the sandy coastline with her beach towel and Neil Gaiman’s _American Gods_ beneath her arm.

A slight ache in her side is making her regret not having done yoga this morning, but she breathes through it, and sighs in relief as Carter points inland, a sandy dune jutting out from the flat beach, tufts of tall grass spiking it’s top, providing a peaceful and private refuge from the slight wind that has picked up.

Her pale skin prickles when the wind gusts, and she bends to scrub the warmth back into her shins, but the movement is futile when a particularly high wave catches her calves just right, sending a chill shuddering through her. Her feet are freezing and no matter how warm the sun is, she can’t manage to get warm again, so she abandons the feeling of wet sand shifting beneath her feet for the firm warmth of the grainy, dry sand as she marches up the beach towards the dune Carter has claimed for the two of them.

Her son is spreading his own towel out, and Batman’s masked face peers out from the darkness, wrinkling slightly as Carter tosses his shoes on the end and plops down. Cat smiles, and it’s a foreign feeling, smiling so much, and she finds her heart filling with this feeling, this contentment, as she sits next to her son and opens her book, humming out a laugh as Carter snatches up the new comic book she’d picked out for him just before they left.

“Thank you, mom,” he whispers against her shoulder, curls brushing the bare skin of her arm as he leans in, and she smiles even wider.

“You’re welcome. Now, read it. I fully expect to debate you on the finer points of the Penguin being a better Batman villain than the Joker.”

Carter snorts and buries his head into the comic, and Cat settles back on her tote bag to begin her book. The salty air threads through her curls and she fishes for her sunglasses, sliding them up her nose and returning to her novel.

It takes a few a moments for the sunlight to warm her skin again, and Cat finds herself thankful for the ingenuity of her son— she can doze in peace and quiet, far from the screams and delighted shrieks of beach goers. Her eyes slide shut and, but for the crash of the waves on the shore, she is very nearly asleep.

Of course, like all good things in Cat Grant’s life, this doesn’t last long.

A shout and a spray of sand soon wake her from her brief dozing session, and Cat opens her eyes. Her elbow digs into the soft towel uncomfortably as Cat props herself up, the thick fibers separating beneath the hard press of her arm, and she is all too ready to deliver a patented Cat Grant tongue lashing, when she sees the woman she’s about to confront.

A brunette stands at the edge of the dune, her feet buried in the sand as if she’d come to a sudden halt, her arm outstretched, a red disc clasped between her fingers as she gapes. The woman’s eyes are wide with remorse, and she opens her mouth to apologize, chest heaving with exertion, and Cat is so very close to telling her off in a manner which makes her discontent clear, when a familiar blonde comes hurtling to her side.

“Oh, my god, Lucy, I didn’t mean to—” Kara says as she skids to a stop next to the brunette, stopping as she takes in the scene before her.

Cat’s mouth opens in surprise before she remembers herself, and instead, she sniffs.

“Kiera,” she acknowledges, in a casual attempt to seem like she hadn’t been thinking of firm muscles and blue eyes for two days straight, “while I’m grateful for your assistance the other day, I didn’t think I would find _you_ of all people on the other side of such a rude offense.”

It’s all nonsense, Cat knows, the sand had barely touched the corner of her beach towel, but she finds herself unable to resist bringing some rouge to the bright face of her son’s hero.

“It’s Kara,” she huffs out, her blessed biceps bulging as she crosses them over her— _oh,_ Cat’s satisfied smirk turns into a sharp intake of breath when she notes that Kara, however attractive she’d been yesterday, is even more so today. Her black two-piece is taut across her frame, her shoulders strong, and her abs tight beneath her golden skin. Cat swallows in an attempt to remember herself, and brushes away thoughts of strong arms and firm abs.

“Right, well, I do hope you’ll apologize. My son and I were enjoying our quiet morning.”

Cat’s acerbic tongue does very little to abate the quirk of a grin that tugs at Kara’s lips, much to her dismay, and she grumbles as she sits up fully.

“I am aware that it is a public beach, however, the idea of vacation is to get away, and that includes getting away from people in general, so…”

Cat can't help but needle at the young woman, delighting in the way her chest flushes a deep red, the delicious blush creeping up her neck.

Carter is watching this exchange, having long abandoned his comic book in favor of the scene unfolding in front of him, until he’s practically vibrating by Cat’s side.

“Wait, it was you?” he asks.

Kara blushes scarlet to her hairline, and Cat grins at the way her hand flies up to touch something that isn’t there, as if attempting to adjust glasses, perhaps. Cat, not for the first time, finds herself lost for words around this beauty of a woman, and she has to look away as she studies her novel, suddenly afraid that if she looks too long or too intently, she may never look away.

“Um, yes, yeah, it was. That was me, but really it wasn't a big deal,” Kara rambles, only stopping when Lucy elbows her in the side, “Oh, erm, Lucy this is…”

“Carter Grant,” the young boy supplies, rocketing to his feet in a mess of gangly limbs and wobbling as he nods in greeting, his hand moving to smooth his shirt, a nervous tick.

“And this is… Cat, isn’t it?” Kara stumbles, her fingers flicking to Cat in a manner that’s too casual for Cat’s liking, but then she recalls that she is not Cat Grant, CEO, but Cat Grant, vacationer, Cat Grant the single mother.

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Cat smiles tightly at Lucy, as though she’s on camera for an interview with Larry King— she would never go back to that old tuft for an interview, not after what he’d said about her on national television— and the brunette tucks a strand of her unruly curls behind her ear.

“Likewise,” Lucy mutters, and the way her eyes sharpen and flicker between Cat and Kara makes Cat’s stomach clench in discomfort.

“Well, we’re sorry, Cat and Carter, we’ll let you get back to your reading,” Lucy grins, Kara silent and almost _staring_ at Cat, lips parted in a way that makes Cat wonder exactly what she’s imagining. Tugging Kara away by the hand, Lucy turns and skips down the beach, and Cat stifles the flare of _something_ at that, instead choosing to sink back into the prose of her novel while Carter drops beside her with a sigh, the pages of his comic rustling in the breeze.

Cat steals a glance over her book every now and again, seeking out the two women. If she’s asked, she’ll say she getting restless, but in truth, she’s watching Kara jog across the beach, her bare legs a delight to behold as she chases after her friend. Cat almost wishes it were her the young woman was chasing after.

The sun rises higher in the sky, the noon heat almost too warm, and Cat sheds her blouse, unaware of eyes that watch her from across the beach.

* * *

 

“Oh my god, Danvers, can you _stop_ being gay for five fucking seconds?” Lucy whines as she jogs to Kara’s side to see what has Kara so enthralled, “seriously, she has a _kid_ , Kara.”

Kara turns to Lucy in an instant, whirling so fast that Lucy blinks, surprised.

“I— there’s— I know,” Kara sighs, her knuckles coming to rub at the back of her shoulder.

“Oh my god,” Lucy repeats, staring at Kara with an open mouth, “How many times have you even spoken to her?”

“Um, twice?” Kara admits, her smile pinching into a grimace.

“Including today?” At Kara’s nod of confirmation, Lucy whistles, low and long, “Kara, honey, you know I love you, but she will eat you _alive_.”

Kara blushes at that, and of course, opens her mouth, “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

“Kara!” With a peal of laughter, Kara runs down the beachfront, sand flicking behind her as Lucy barrels behind her, and they land in a sandy heap, Frisbee tossed to the side as Lucy stands, offering her hand to Kara.

“Just…” Lucy’s eyes are alight with worry, “Just be careful, Kara.”

Kara smiles softly at that, taking her friend’s outstretched hand in her own.

“I will.”

Of course, being careful means being away from the magnetizing pair for two whole hours before Kara finds herself trudging up the sand dune without Lucy's knowledge, arms laden with sandwiches and seafood salad tossed together at the local deli just up the road a ways.

When Kara clears her throat, Carter’s gaze snaps up, and then down to the food in her arms. His face lights up and a smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

“Mom, look what Kara brought!” Carter flings his comic to the side, and Cat moves to look up at Kara.

Cat’s shoulders are a pale, milky white, _like porcelain_ , Kara thinks, and the black spaghetti straps of her thin tank rest delicately on slight shoulders as she sits up. Kara flushes when her gaze falls to the slope of her tank, where creamy flesh leads to the swell of her breast. She swallows when she spies the valley between Cat’s breasts, but the moment is gone, and Cat is shifting to stand, abandoning her book to the side. They’re closer now than they were the day on her deck, no soccer ball between them now, and Kara’s eyes take in the beauty that is Cat Grant. Cat stands roughly an inch or two shorter than her as she surveys Kara, and Kara can’t help but think of drawing Cat close and— _too much, too fast,_ she thinks, and the voice in her head sounds a little too much like Lucy.

“You didn’t have to, Kara,” Cat says, and she hears the undercurrent of _thank you,_ and Kara smiles then, her mega-watt grin enough to spark Cat’s own demure smile, sending Kara’s heart skittering into a rapid beat, cheeks flushing with warmth as Cat reaches out to relieve Kara of her burden.

“It’s my way of apologizing. I have a mean swing with a Frisbee, and Lucy’s not the highest jumper around,” Kara chuckles, aware of how _ridiculous_ her excuse sounds, feeble and weak, cradling the last container in her arm as she plops onto the sand next to Carter, who looks up with a shy smile. She decides not to look at Cat, afraid to find the half-truth questioned by the simple quirk of an eyebrow. Kara just knows Cat can win an argument with a look— she’s small and tiny. In Kara's experience, small and tiny people generally get what they want in the end.  

“I got one of everything, including the vegetarian options— I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

Cat hums in reply, and Kara watches closely as she opens the saran-wrapped hummus and feta sandwich in her hands and begins to eat. Kara’s heart pounds in her throat as Cat’s capris tighten minutely around slender calves when she adjusts on the towel, crossing her legs.

“You like it? It’s from the deli down the street. I figured maybe you hadn’t ventured that way yet. Or maybe you have,” Kara stops and thinks about that for a moment and her hands flutter nervously as she pulls her lower lip between her teeth.

“This is good. I’m afraid Carter and I haven’t seen much of town— we only got here on Monday.”

Kara stops her frantic worrying at that, taking a breath to still the panicked rush of thoughts, and Cat smiles at her and—  and it’s like catching the perfect wave, that smooth, slow build towards the rush of slipping back down and wondering if she’ll crash and burn, it’s like feeling the smooth wax in her hand after a long day of surfing, it’s like the smell of salt and the slip of cool water against her skin when she takes a dive too steep—

Kara blinks steadily, aware of Carter speaking then, and her thoughts break the surface, a rush of sound meeting her suddenly as if she’d been in a strange bubble then.

Cat looks down.  

_Too much, too fast._

“I’m sorry, Carter,” Kara turns to Carter where he sits on the beach towel, legs crossed as he unwraps a second sandwich, “Can you repeat that?”

Carter opens his mouth as if to repeat himself but he pauses instead, his forehead crinkling, eyebrows drawing together in a furrow.

“Do you write? Mom says writers daydream. That’s what she does all day, she daydreams.”

Kara looks to Cat in askance, who rolls her eyes fondly, and says, “No, I paint, but only sometimes. My one true love? That.”

Kara points to the ocean, where the crests of the waves slap and break on the sand only a hundred yards away, and looks back to Carter as he regards the ocean.

“There’s nothing better than being on a surfboard, when it’s just you and the ocean air. Sometimes I feel like I could take on the world. Sometimes,” Kara leans in, her shoulder brushing Carter’s as she whispers conspiratorially, “I feel like a superhero.”

Carter grins, and Kara feels a jolt of unexpected warmth rush through her at the way his eyes squint with the motion.

“I’d like to feel like that someday. Like a superhero, I mean,” Carter says, eyes still glued to the rushing waters, grey and murky and swirling dangerously, even as the summer sun beats down on the trio.

Kara smiles at him, and though Carter can’t see it, Cat notices and over his shoulder, returns the smile tentatively, eyes filling with an emotion that Kara can’t place. It’s too intimate, too much to watch this silent moment between a mother and her unknowing son, and Kara wonders briefly if her own parents had ever looked at her the way Cat looks at her son.

Kara turns her face into the salty ocean breeze instead.

“I think you’re more of a hero than you know, Carter Grant,” Kara says, a wistful sigh escaping her at the thought of her own mother and father, of the way her father had taught her to swim, of the way her mother had always cautioned her about the tides and undercurrents pulling her under. She thinks of the kind of heroes they had been, in their own ways, before they’d left her behind all too soon.

“Maybe,” the young boy sighs, stretching his shoulders and crumpling the wrapper for his second sandwich and stuffing it into his pocket, “but I still think flying would be an amazing superpower.”

Kara laughs, and if she watches the way Cat Grant’s eyes sparkle at the sound, if her mouth goes dry and she wonders what it would be like to capture Cat’s hand in hers, she won’t tell Lucy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel pretty decently about this chapter. I wrote it intermittently while baking pumpkin snickerdoodles earlier (which were amazing, by the way), and I like it well enough. Let me know what you all think!

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to kara-lesbihonest and kuromikoneko for their continued support and encouragement. I'm not sure this would have ever gotten off the ground without you two!


End file.
